


Can't Let Go

by PuckPip24601



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Just something I found in my drafts from a while ago that I thought I might finish off and post, Kind of one sided 13/Jack?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23620408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuckPip24601/pseuds/PuckPip24601
Summary: “I’m sorry I keep dragging you into my messes.” Jack’s gaze snaps back over to her, confused at her words, and even more confused at how she looks down at her feet. Her expression ashamed. She’s sat on the floor of this cell, one knee held against her chest by her arm, the other leg spread out in front of her. He frowns. He wonders for a second how the Doctor hasn’t figured out yet that he would follow her anywhere. Always has. Always will. He casts one last quick glance out the bars of the cell into the beautiful emptiness of space before he turns and moves until he can drop down next to her. Close enough that his arm almost brushes her shoulder but not enough to actually be touching.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Jack Harkness
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Can't Let Go

“I’m sorry I keep dragging you into my messes.” Jack’s gaze snaps back over to her, confused at her words, and even more confused at how she looks down at her feet. Her expression ashamed. She’s sat on the floor of this cell, one knee held against her chest by her arm, the other leg spread out in front of her. He frowns. He wonders for a second how the Doctor hasn’t figured out yet that he would follow her anywhere. Always has. Always will. He casts one last quick glance out the bars of the cell into the beautiful emptiness of space before he turns and moves until he can drop down next to her. Close enough that his arm almost brushes her shoulder but not enough to actually be touching.

“They’re usually my messes too, to be fair. We just happen to meet in the middle.” He threw her a smile only for it to quickly drop from his face as he realises that she still wasn’t even looking at him. Her eyes seem fixed on a spot on the floor, her hair falling over her face and screening it from his view from the angle he was sat at. He lets out a soft sigh and leans his head back against the wall behind him. They sit in silence for a few moments before he reaches out and threads their fingers together without a word, just squeezes. There’s another moment but then she squeezes his hand back and Jack’s head falls forward again. He brings their joined hands up so he can press a quick kiss to the back of her hand before giving it a few gentle pats with his free hand and letting them drop back onto his lap. “I prefer your messes to mine anyway, I’d follow you into the fray whenever. You don’t even have to ask.” He watches her shoulders tense and, for a second, he internally panics, worrying that he’s said the wrong thing and that she’s going to pull away once more. Instead she eventually lets out a shaky breath and the words that leave her are almost a whisper.

“Thank you, Jack.”

Jack wonders for a moment if these feelings will ever disappear completely. His heart swells, he’s pleased and proud that he still knows what she needs, even after all this time and a change in face and personality. He likes to think he just knows the person underneath too well. He knows for a fact that he doesn’t. He might know it a little bit more than most, but he doesn’t think anybody actually _knows_ the Doctor. You get glimpses. If you’re lucky. Jack’s only had so many because he’s lived as long as he has, and he won’t stop chasing the Doctor down. He doesn’t like the thought of being forgotten by the Doctor and so he likes to pop back up every few centuries or so, show his face and get himself swept up in the peril that likes to follow this being around. He knows the Doctor would probably rather not have to think about him again, but he refuses to allow that. She needs someone like him around. Just like he needs the Doctor there. Travelling together would be too much. They’re both far too old. They both need someone around to stop them from becoming the very things they fight in this universe. There comes a point once you get old enough that you start making excuses for your actions. Excusing one life lost here. Excusing those you couldn’t save. Ignoring the guilt. He and the Doctor, they’d simply enable one another, and Jack understood that better than most, perhaps even more than the Doctor.

“You ready to get out of here? I know I am.” He asks her, pushing himself to his feet with a groan of effort and he doesn’t give her a chance to protest as he uses his grip on her hand to pull her up after him. “Where’s the TARDIS? You can just program it into this.” He lifts his arm for her to do what she needed to do with the vortex manipulator but she seems to be off again in her own little despondent world and Jack frowns in concern, his voice raising slightly as he snaps, “Doctor?” She jumps, as though he’s startled her, and he drops her hand to get a firm grip of both her shoulders and her eyes flicker up to his. He’s more startled than she is to see that her eyes are watering. “Doctor?” his repeat of her name this time is softer, “what’s happened?” He watches it on her face, and in her eyes, as she tries to come up with a lie. She’s not great at schooling her expressions into something unreadable this time around apparently, or she’s just too far gone emotionally for her usual tricks to do the job.

“Gallifrey’s gone.” She finally tells him, and he tries not to look too put out and irritated at her, tries not to feel offended that that’s the lie she’s going to go with.

“I knew that. I knew that back when we met, if you don’t want to tell me then-”

“I never destroyed it in the war. I thought I had, but I’d just mad myself forget. I saved it. And now it’s gone again.” Understanding hits him quickly. Then surprise. And then a sympathetic pity and he lets go of her shoulders but only so he can wrap both his arms around her smaller form and tug her in against his chest, practically shrouding her as he presses his lips to the top of her head.

“What happened?” he tries his luck, knowing there’s really only about a 50/50 chance that she’ll actually tell him what really happened. Maybe more 80/20. The 50/50 chance was more her omitting details.

“The Master.” He tenses, remembering for a moment the now hazy memories of the year that never was and of the man who made his life a living hell during that time. Of the man who died. Who was supposed to be dead. Jack doesn’t ask for any further clarification when she falls silent. Instead he rests his chin on her head and whispers softly to her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Doctor.” There’s more to the story. He doesn’t want to think it, but she’s been through the destruction of her home before. She’s had 6 months at the least in this prison cell alone before he got here. She shouldn’t be this despondent over it. 6 months is plenty of time for the Doctor to have buried her feelings down deep like she always did. There was something else but if she didn’t want to tell him then Jack could live without knowing. Because that was his role in the Doctor’s life. Trusted friend who didn’t push unless it was absolutely necessary. He was scared to push because then she might push him away even harder like she had with others. He’d been left behind once before; he didn’t want to do it again. After a minute or two of them stood there, him holding her tightly, he feels her hands move and her body begin to pull back and he reluctantly loosens his grip to allow her to step away from him. She reaches for his arm though, not allowing him to get too far and grabs hold of the wrist with the vortex manipulator strapped to it.

“Let’s go get the TARDIS. I’ve got some friends I need to see.” He nods, noting that once again she’s not looking him in the eye. She’s instead focusing intently on the manipulator as she inputs co-ordinates and he resists the urge to sigh heavily because he knows she probably feels embarrassed over taking any sort of comfort. Jack’s not Rose Tyler. Or River Song or any of the other people in the Doctor’s lives who were allowed to be that emotional confidant to her. As much as he wishes to be.

“You got it, Doc.” He sends her a wink, his laughter at her reply cut off as she presses the button for their take off.

“Haven’t I told you before about calling me ‘Doc’?”


End file.
